


Are we lost?

by SingSwan_SpringSwan



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Annabeth is a scientist forgive me, BAMF Percy, Ethan has the stupid role, Ethan is also pretty important, F/M, Government stuff, He's the brainwashed LARX agent, Hyperion is kinda just there, Jason Bourne - Freeform, Jason Bourne movies, Kelli is part of the inner cirle, Kronos has not soul, Like, Luke Castellan has a heart, Secret Agent, Smart person Annabeth, The Bourne Legacy - Freeform, government agencies/programs, haha but RIP him tho lol, percabeth, spies and stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingSwan_SpringSwan/pseuds/SingSwan_SpringSwan
Summary: Me: Did someone say Percy Jackson and Jason Bourne mashup???Every creature in existence: no.Me: Alright, if you insist :))Yeah this is basically The Bourne Legacy but with PJO characters. Likely that I’ll never finish :/ ((consider yourself informed))





	1. The things they find on YouTube (smh)

**Author's Note:**

> In my humble opinion.
> 
> The Bourne movies sucked. Exceptfornumberfour.
> 
> I could list all my reasons (it’s the same plot with the same characters over and over again and honestly, why does every love interest of his have to cut their hair short and dye it black only for it to grow three feet and blonde in the next two years?) but you don’t have the time for that, and that’s not why we’re here. 
> 
> I’ll just say that The Bourne Legacy was my favorite because of the refreshing new plot line and the brilliantly-played characters, and while I wholly acknowledge that the relationship between Aaron and Marta remains platonic on-screen, for the sake of this work,
> 
> Percabeth.
> 
> Please enjoy ^^

It was cold. Painfully cold. Horribly, nightmarishly cold. Cold enough to sink into the bones. To make numb. To stop hearts.

But that was not how Percy had been designed. He was enhanced. He was strong. He could make it.

Besides, he liked the water, even if it was freezing. He didn’t mind diving down through the rapids. He didn’t mind opening his eyes in the frigid fathoms below the mountain. Frankly, he quite enjoyed it, especially if it got him the checkpoint: the meds. The chems. The teeny tiny pills that made him who he was.

Climbing out of the river hit him in the face with a stunning blast of chill. But he didn’t stop. Because that was not how he had been designed. Instead, he took the canister and made his way over to the campsite. To the fire and the blanket that would keep him warm.

In the distance, wolves bayed. Long and soleful. Hungry. Eerie. Quiet.

Normally, Percy liked wolves, but these ones were not like any other pack he had encountered. He had seen them. They were mangy. They were black. They were ugly. Wolves didn’t track humans, but this particular group had been on Percy’s back for the past week. It was annoying. He thought he’d lost them over ravine, along with his last ration of chems (which sucked), but here they were again. He would have to get moving soon. They were starting to catch up.

Sure enough, they crowded around his fire that night. They were afraid of fire, those shadowy creatures. They hated the fire and his glinting knife, but Percy wasn’t about to start hurling burning pieces of his only warmth at them, though he was extremely tempted. They looked like some discharged kill squad that hadn’t gotten the psychological all-clear.

He tried to tell them off. He shouted, and made jabs. For whatever reason, they didn’t want to listen. They were content to crouch in the darkness on the edge of the fire’s light, waiting for Percy to drift off so they could leap in and tear him open.

So annoying.

Aside from the wolves, Percy’s hike was going breezily smooth. Not even the bitter cold could hinder him; after all, that was not how he had been designed. He plowed through snow banks, braved scorching winds, jumped across schisms in the rock so big and wide that it would have given him vertigo before enhancement.

Percy liked the time he was making. The trip was easier than he’d expected. Nice weather (as nice as it could get, anyway). Plenty of supplies—well. There would need to be a little detour. He just needed chems. He had enough to last him to the cabin. Not that he’d anticipated this, but he could make it. He could make it work.

The wolves would follow him, but he could stay with the contact and reload. Together, they might even be able to deter the pack permanently. 

Or maybe it was a lot to hope for. He wished it wasn’t.

This trip… this trek through the mountains, it totally hadn’t been Percy’s idea. For the record. And yeah, he’d gotten off in New York for a few days, but that had only been a few days. Surely dropping off the grid for less than a week wasn’t so serious a matter as to warrant his three-hundred, thirty-six-hour hike through the frozen nothingness of Mother Alaska. 

Well, Percy was never going to underestimate the government again. 

Besides. It was good… training. Call it make-up for the stuff he’d missed in order to take his vacation. He didn’t like it much, but it helped to keep him sharp. Even if it was punishment for doing what, his handlers didn’t know. Now _that_ had been a hoot.

He would have thought they’d keep a tighter hold on him (from now on, they likely would), but it had been almost too easy for him to just… disappear. In Manhattan, no less. 

(Even New York could get muggy in August.)

A cinch, really. He didn’t fully understand how they could lose track of one of their most important operatives so quickly. The director of the program—Byer Kronos—definitely hadn’t spilled any of the tea, but if Percy had to guess, he’d say it had something to do with that Jason Grace **((A/N: teehee... I couldn’t help myself))** guy from Moscow. 

A broken operative, they’d called him. The agent without a program. He’d volunteered for his, like they all did. But now he had nothing. Just his wit. His heart. His mind. 

Percy hadn’t heard much about him, but the bits and pieces he managed to collage together had made a picture so complex that it only seemed fitting for literally every federal agency to be involved, especially their special-ops projects and playthings. Percy always knew that his program—Olympus—was no exception, but exactly how he and the other agents tied into the giant mess was another matter altogether. 

Olympus had been designed to create gods.

The training. The chems. Percy and friends were the sin-eaters of the government of the United States of America. They were made to be like Jason Grace, only safer. Easier. More efficient.

There was serious science behind all this. Probably.

But that was totally not Percy’s problem. It wasn’t his job to worry about rogues and blown-up buildings and confusing politics, please, if he stared at the McDonald’s menu for too long, he got a headache. No, his specialty was in the field. That’s where he belonged, and that’s where he would stay.

Until his orders directed otherwise (or, you know, he felt like pissing Kronos off. Generally not a good idea. Don’t try this at home).

**< ~><><~>**

“—And we’ve been finding dark corners ever since.”

Applause was abruptly cut off.

“Where did you find this?” A gravelly voice demanded.

“YouTube.”

“What the heck?”

“How? And why?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions here, Henry. The question is not ‘how’ this happened, not even ‘why’. We’ve had antagonists since day one. People like Jason Grace who have the means and every inch of the will to make something like this a reality, so we don’t need to wonder the reason behind it. That’s someone else’s job. This happened, gentlemen. The question now, is ‘what do we do about it?’.”

Kelly planted her hands on the table and scowled at the papers below her. “What do we do? Boss, if this crap hits the fan, we’ll have absolute anarchy. This whole… Grace thing, it’s about to infect the rest of our programs.” She gestured angrily at the men on the screen. “The public has seen the main players in the Webb story, now I thought—”

The papers shifted to show a profile of Grace’s direct contacts.

“Treadstone and Olympus were completely separate projects. Why do I see the medical heads of both said projects sharing a drink over our insignia?”

“Olympus was supposed to be the official Treadstone.” Henry muttered distractedly. “More research, more training, more drugs, definitely more organized. They were never really separate.”

Kevin nodded before elaborating. “The problem was that Treadstone worked. Olympus wasn’t up and running by the time the CIA needed it, so Treadstone got thrown together to keep things in order until it was. The system did fine until Grace.”

“Yes, the agent who feels pain.” Kelly sighed heavily. “He cracked. Got sloppy. The point I’m trying to make is that the public already knows more about Grace than they should. Why are we letting this—” Again, she gestured to the screen. “Out? Do we really want the populace to make these connections? We’ve worked on Olympus for years! Throwing this on the internet makes room for people to fit the puzzle pieces together!”

Byer stepped away from the table, arms crossed. He hadn’t moved since pausing the feed on the TV, and now that he did, everyone stiffened and looked up. “This isn’t the only thing.” He warned.

Kelly’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

“There’s plenty more where it came from, and it puts the rest of our projects in jeopardy.”

“So, boss,” Henry lifted his pen. “How much of Olympus are we going to be able to use until this whole Grace thing calms down?”

There was a stretch of silence. Byer pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of it, Perion.” He finally sighed. “We need to terminate the whole thing.”

Kevin was the first to speak. “All of it? The agents, the stats team, the scientists—”

“All of it. You heard me.”

“Boss.” Kelly gaped indignantly. “Losing Olympus… we spent years on this bloody project. Millions of dollars—maybe billions. We poured every resource we had into it, and let’s not forget all the progress we’ll lose. Do you have any idea how long it took us to get an active operative in Pakistan?”

“I’m aware, Ms. Dacalla!” Kronos barked. “But by Atlas, I refuse not to take this Grace-shaped threat seriously! Olympus was doomed the moment you let this footage be collected, and now we can’t take a single chance with a single record. Everything needs to go. At this point, we’re just looking to see how much needs to be amputated in order to save the patient.”

Kelly looked furious, and understandably so. Olympus was her life’s work. It belonged to all of them.

Over in the corner, the admiral sighed heavily. “Losing Olympus does what exactly, for us?”

Kelly pulled up a chair and sat down for the first time since entering the room. Her mouth was set into a tight line. She wasn’t the only one, but she looked so angry that it wouldn’t come as a surprise if her hair caught on fire.

“I’m glad you asked, admiral.” Kronos emphasized, giving the rest of his team a pointed look. “It means the senate doesn’t know what we did with the agents. They don’t know Olympus was tied to Grace. We don’t muddy the waters, we keep our beta programs safe.”

“The beta programs?”

“Praetor, Medusa, heck even ARGO. The spawn of operational projects. These ones are in-progress. We’re not done developing them yet.”

The admiral nodded slowly. “So you terminate Olympus, you buy time to get these other ones up and running.”

“We pray that Grace’s mess doesn’t infect those too, because if it does, I’ve lost my most valuable agents for nothing.”

For a while, no one said anything. The only sound was the soft tappity-tap-ing of the keyboard as Henry plucked away, busy organizing the files for this their next big project. Kronos had expected less resistance from the team, but he could make due here.

“Well then.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m going to give the order. Any more objections?”


	2. Chapter 2

The valley was a welcome sight for Percy. He typically didn’t like being boxed in, but this was a safe feeling. Like he was being protected. Maybe two miles in the distance, he could see the smallest wisps of smoke floating over the trees.

 

Fire. And warmth. And safety.

 

Swinging his rifle off his shoulder, Percy cocked it and shot into the air a couple of times. Loud and crisp and very difficult to ignore.

 

And if it wasn’t, well, Percy was definitely in for a major oof when he walked through the valley. He hadn’t died yet, however, and that was always a good sign.

 

The mountains were doing a very big aesthetic. Monochromatic, almost. Pale blue in the white ice behind the black stalks of the trees. Lulling. Serene. If it wasn’t twenty degrees below freezing, Percy might actually have enjoyed the beautiful scenery. Yeah, but it was twenty degrees below freezing. Percy’s coat was also a very loud shade of bright, scarlet red that both served to thoroughly disrupt the soft blue theme and make him question all of his life choices.

 

It did make it seem about twenty degrees warmer though. So that was a plus.

 

The snow was the weirdest balance between a fine powder and obnoxious crunch. The kind of snow that really sucks if you’re trying to make it into a man. Under the trees, it was thinner and much easier to walk through than the drifts on the mountaintops. 

 

Must be nice.

 

“You gonna turn around, or are you gonna keep pretending you don’t know I’m here?”

 

Percy stopped. The voice had come from behind him, higher up. In the tree.

 

“Just trying to be polite.”

 

Snow crunched. Thick boots but not too thick. Leather. Built for the snow. He stuck the landing perfectly.

 

Percy turned around.

 

Tall man. Older than Percy but not by much. Light skin, light eyes—a bright blue—sandy hair. A long, pale scar ran down the left side of his face. He had a rifle like Percy, a thin overcoat, and a black beanie smushed down hastily on his hair.

 

His stance was stiff. He'd dropped from the tree, gun in hand, far from the relaxed mood that Percy was trying half-heartedly to pull himself out of.

 

“You're early.” Was the blunt reply.

 

Percy shrugged and adjusted his backpack. “Had to get here sooner. I took a shortcut,” He gestured over his shoulder. “passed the river.”

 

The man squinted in a scrutinizing way, his grip on the gun not slacking. “You came over the mountain?”

 

“Well, yeah,”

 

“No one comes over the mountain.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Well if you went over the mountain, you beat the pass record by two days.”

 

Percy’s expression was something close to mild surprise. “Oh. Cool.” He paused when the man frowned at him. “Wasn't your record, was it?” He couldn't help the cheeky smile that tugged on his mouth. He got no response for that comment, but his new friend pursed his lips and finally slung his rifle over his shoulder. 

 

“Come on, smart guy. B & b is this way.”

 

Percy learned very quickly that the man didn't like to talk much. They made the walk back to the cozy little cabin where Percy was instructed to dump his schist by the fire and prep his blood work for the drone that would be coming soon. The blondie made food. Percy tried starting up a conversation on maybe one too many occasions, but the longest response he received was, “In the morning.”

 

So Percy elected to study the cabin instead. He was surprised by how well the tiny wood stove could heat the place. Everything else was a bit of a mess. Clearly blondie had the whole bachelor thing nailed. Partially-assembled radio equipment occupied a shelf under the window, dirty dishes cluttered the sink, countless papers and articles of clothing were scattered over every surface, and gods forbid Percy to mention the perfectly-intact chair that was for some reason hanging from the ceiling. In fact, the only thing that seemed even remotely organized was the gun rack by the door and the box of test tubes on the table. 

 

Percy's curiosity won him over. Sometimes he questioned the decision on Kronos’ part to use an operative with ADHD.

 

“Whose is that?”

 

Blondie spared a quick glance over his shoulder, just long enough to see where Percy had nodded.

 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” He grumbled, turning back to the stove where he was busy shoving logs into the fire.

 

Percy gave the back of his head a queer look, leaning against the wall, allowing a small smirk to creep onto his lips. “You’re not a contact, are you? You’re like me.”

 

Blondie huffed and slammed the stove door. He brushed his hands off and stood up. “You talk too much, you know that?”

 

“I mean, I’m sorry to call you out, it‘s just, I’ve never met anyone else in the program before.” Yes, he knew. He’d been told on multiple occasions. Well, braccas meas viccini. “How many of us are there?”

 

Blondie gave a tired sigh and closed his eyes like he was counting to ten in his head. Maybe—read: probably—because Percy was acting like—read: being—an insufferable child.

 

“If you’re talking about Olympus, then it’s likely they started with twelve.”

 

“Dude, that’s not funny.”

 

Blondie shook his head in exasperation.

 

“What’s your name? I gotta stop calling you ‘Blondie’.”

 

“Out loud?”

 

“Nope.”

 

He finally turned to actually face Percy, giving him a considering look. Whatever he saw must’ve made his satisfied. “I’m Number One.” He said simply. “But call me Luke.”

 

“Okay wow, so not everyone was named after a Greek myth? That’s just me?”

 

Luke raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“Yeah, ever heard of the demigod Perseus? Guy who killed Medusa. He was a son of Zues, I think.”

 

“You write ‘Perseus’ every time you report?”

 

“I’m supposed to.” Percy said with a grin. “Perseus Jackson. But it’s tedious, and I’m dyslexic, so I just write ‘Percy’ and get on with my life. I think Kronos had a little bit of an obsession with Greek mythology. Too bad his name is actually the origin story of the gods.”

 

Luke shook his head. “Yeah man, you talk too much.”

 

“Maybe you don’t talk enough.”

 

“Do you by chance have… I don’t know, ADD or something?”

 

“ADHD, actually. And it’s a mental condition. Not my fault.”

 

“Uh, yeah, ‘mental’ is definitely a word I would use to describe it.”

 

“You’re a genius.” 

 

Percy was becoming fond of this reclusive character. A bit rough around the edges, but however much of time the guy had already spent out here with no contact to civilization spare the drone that dropped by maybe twice a month would definitely do that to a person. Percy wasn’t one to judge.

 

“Yeah? Hey, so tell me. You took a shortcut. You need the chems, that it?”

 

Percy deflated a little but didn’t show it. “I know you keep them here.”

 

“I’m not supposed to ration you out until tomorrow morning.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s just that, I’m due before tomorrow morning, unless you want me to wake you up at one A.M. because of technicalities.”

 

“How did you run out so fast?”

 

“I lost my last batch over the ravine.”

 

Luke gave him a scrutinizing look. “You lost them.” It was a question, but his intonation suggested otherwise. “Define lost.”

 

“Lost. Fell to the rocks at the bottom of a sheer thirty-meter cliff. Lost. Listen, I’ve had a pack of wolves on my back for the past week. They cut me off two days ago between the ravine and the other range. I had to keep moving, so I chose the ravine. I chose wrong. A bad flurry hit that night. I couldn’t start a fire. My hands got stiff. I lost them.”

 

Luke crossed his arms and shrugged indifferently. “You’re going to have to write that up.”

 

Percy copied him. “This is why you’re a genius. You tell me things I never would have figured out on my own.”

 

For a while, they stared at each other. The cabin remained silent except for the muted crackling of the fire and the rolling of whatever was in the pot on the stove. Percy counted the seconds.

 

One-hundred-eight. One-hundred-nine. One-hundred-ten. One-hundred ele—

 

“Don’t let this boil over.” Luke jerked a thumb at the pot. Percy already liked how it smelled. At that, the tall, blond man turned and strode from the cabin.

 

Okay. Doable. 

 

When Luke came back, he tossed two orange bottles at Percy, who caught them without effort.

 

“Drone's about five minutes out.” He said bluntly. “Get your case ready.”

 

That night, the silence continued as they ate. Luke finished his food early and read a book while he waited for the raven-haired operative to do the same. Percy couldn't really see the title of the book from the angle it was held at, but the spine was well worn, and Luke seemed thoroughly engrossed. Probably had something to do with wizards and dark lords.

 

Somewhat randomly, the said man glanced up, gazing off to the side like he was listening for something.

 

“Your friends are here.”

 

And Percy heard it. The faint echoing of wolf cries. He hadn't noticed before thanks to how loudly he chewed. He should work on that.

 

“Don't you think that's weird?” He inquired, staring at Luke, stabbing his spoon at the bowl in frustration. “Wolves don't do that.” He shook his head. “They don't track people.”

 

Luke snorted and went back to his book. “Maybe they don't think you're human.”

 

That was a possibility. Percy shook his head. “Yeah? What do they assume I am? I'm not a prey animal. I'm not worth it.”

 

Luke didn't respond for a moment, but when he did he still didn't look up. “You ask too many questions.”

 

Percy took an aggressive bite of his food. “Um, I know. Yeah.” A few more scrapes of the spoon and he finished off the first home-cooked meal he'd had in a while. It was nice, even if his host didn't seem to think so.

 

The wolves called out to each other. Ghostly sounds in the dark.

 

Percy nudged his bowl forward. He was so curious about this man, and he had no mouth filter, so it wasn't really a surprise when he asked, “So what are you doing up here, anyway?”

 

Luke made a frustrated noise and dropped the book onto the table. “How do you know I'm not evaluating you?” He demanded, which to Percy, sounded more like an indignant, “don't you ever shut up?”.

 

Percy shrugged and leaned forward. That same mischievous smile twitched on his lips. “Oh I don't know, are you? Maybe I don't care.”

 

The wolves again.

 

“Do you ever not care?”

 

The fire popped and the logs shifted in the stove. Luke frowned and touched the edge of the table. He was quiet for a while.

 

“Maybe you're evaluating me.” He said softly.

 

Ha. Haha. Percy was definitely  _ not _ on an evaluative assignment. Funny how Luke thought Kronos would ever do something like that.

 

“I went off the grid for four days; that's why I'm here.” Percy corrected. “Dropped off the grid, skipped my check-in. Now I'm on this bull shark scavenger hunt.”

 

“They have their reasons.”

 

“Well, I thought I was having my wrist slapped but now I'm not so sure.” He reached for his coffee cup and shrugged. “Still trying to figure out if you're supposed to kill me or give me a pep talk.”

 

Luke gave him an almost-smile, part amusement, part exasperation. “Seriously man, you think too much.”

 

“Aren't we wired to stick our noses in, you and I?” He asked, sipping off the mug, cocking his head curiously. “There's not another person for three-hundred miles. We know nobody's listening, so you gotta give me something. Talk to me! Come on!”

 

Luke bit the inside of his cheek.

 

“Why'd they pull you off the field and put you up here?” Percy pressed. “It's not physical, the way you've been moving, so what'd you do?” He couldn't actually think of a single reason for someone like Luke to get suspended from program operations. The dude seemed seriously hardcore. He was probably Number One because he'd been the first to sign up.

 

Percy started listing off the most random guesses. “Turn down an assignment? Start thinking for yourself? Fall in love?”

 

He hadn't expected Luke to react to any of those, but at the last one, he glanced up briefly, effectively stopping Percy from ticking off on his fingers.

 

He lowered his hands. “You fell in love.”

 

Luke abruptly shoved out of his chair, shaking his head. He dug around the cabinets behind Percy. He was holding a gun. A small handgun. A pistol. If he shot, Percy would totally face plant into his empty bowl, and that would be kind of embarrassing. He subconsciously nudged the coffee away. 

 

The gun cocked, loud and obnoxious. Nine millimeter. CZ 75. Probably an SP-01. It looked like Percy  _ wouldn't _ be getting a face-full of crusty leftovers today.

 

Luke's footsteps were heavy as he marched back to stand behind his companion. The gun clattered when he tossed it on the table. A small  _ ding _ as it slid into Percy's cup.

 

“It's better for wolves.” Was all the blonde man offered. A nice gun. Considerate of him to give it away so easily. “There's an ammo box by the door. Take as much as you need.” Luke leaned over and scooped up the forsaken bowl. “But we're done talking. You ate. You're pulling out early, you should hit it.”

 

The dishes dropped into the sink with a muted  _ thud _ .

 

“Okay.” Percy finished off his coffee. “Some other time, then.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They both knew it wasn't going to happen.

 

“Some other time.”

 

**< ~><><~>**

 

Annabeth Chase was an orderly person. She kept schedules. She made plans. She organized her belongings down to the inch. And it made her very upset when she was forced to diverge from her neat timetables.

 

“Sorry Peleus,” Annabeth grumbled, digging around the passenger seat for her badge. “I didn't know I was coming back.”

 

“That's alright.” He told her patiently.

 

Annabeth was fuming a little. She'd left earlier this morning because she'd gotten all of her work done. No one told her that she'd be needed for the rest of the day, much less get called in spontaneously. She finally found her badge under a carton of half-eaten Chinese take-out. She’d been having lunch when she was informed that her presence was requested back at the lab.

 

“Will you tell Dr. Brunner I'm back?” She asked as she handed her lanyard to the gate-keeper. 

 

He nodded and buzzed her in.

 

Annabeth loved what she did, don't get her wrong. She had a passion for the sciences and the design of it, and she adored working with all of the country’s finest doctors. The cultures and enhancements and breakthroughs in human biotechnology were completely fascinating to her—how could one not be fascinated? It was leaps and bounds ahead of the next most advanced technology on the planet. Annabeth was proud to be a part of it.

 

_ So much security _ .

 

Annabeth was one of the only twelve—soon to be thirteen—people that had the second highest level of clearance in the entire program. The only one with higher access was the medical director himself, Dr. Brunner.

 

Annabeth thought about how proud of this fact she was as she passed from the main lockers to the private lab of the facility. Her red badge was virtually a mastercard. It even worked in branch labs on other continents. It was amazing. She never thought she'd get this far.

 

If only her mother could see her now.

 

“Got any plans this weekend?”

 

Dr. Di Angelo was adorable in one word. He was basically the secretary of the Olympus medical team, and he managed all of the files coming in and out of the program room. He was sharp witted, and a brilliant scientist as far as Annabeth could see, not to mention something of a close friend. (Annabeth didn't have many friends).

 

Presently, she was standing in the small sort-of office that separated the most exclusive part of the lab from everyone else, readjusting her lab coat and rifling around a neat stack of paper.

 

“Oh, I don't imagine so.” She answered off-handedly. “I do have someone coming on Sunday to put in my back windows. You?” Her house was being renovated.

 

He raised an eyebrow and tickled the mouse by his computer. “Well, I  _ hope _ I'm not stuck with another application…”

 

Annabeth found the file she was looking for and picked it up. “Oh no, you won't.” She promised. “Your card should be ready by the end of today. Ask Lacey before you leave.”

 

He gaped and spun around to face her. “Wait wait wait, I'm approved?”

 

Annabeth couldn't help the smile. She turned the knob on the next door and leaned against it, but she didn't leave before giving him a small nod.

 

“Yes!” He cheered quietly, eyes lit up with excitement. It seemed like it was all he could do to not to jump from his seat and start dancing around. “Thank you!”

 

Of course he was thanking her. She'd vouched for him to get the position. But what  _ wouldn't _ she do for her little brother, really? He deserved it. He'd earned it.

 

“Dr. Chase,” 

 

Annabeth entered the lab and was immediately waved over by Dr. Brunner. He was a kind man with warm eyes, and had been something of a mentor for Annabeth over the years.

 

Annabeth tucked the file under her arm and clacked toward him.

 

“He's early for the check-in, but we moved the frame, so he'll need a new schedule. I want a full-body. Let's do everything since he's here.”

 

Dr. Brunner handed her a clipboard with a few sheets for her to fill out, stapled to the convenient profile on the front.

 

“An operative, then.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What's his number?”

 

“Nine.”

 

“Mm-hm.” Annabeth quickly scanned through his medical. “What room is he in?”

 

“That one over there. He requested you specifically.”

 

“Alright,” Annabeth smiled and shuffled the pages together. “So I'll fill him in. Can I actually leave though, once I'm done?”

 

Dr. Brunner chuckled and promised that yes, after this little job, Annabeth could go home for the day. That made her a little happier.

 

As she walked into the room, she had to remind herself not to flinch. She pretended to be thoroughly interested in the clipboard as she skirted the bed to reach the far countertop. Annabeth would never outright admit it, but Number Nine intimidated her.

 

He was easily over six feet with broad shoulders, rippling muscles, and hands the size of baseball mitts. He was nice enough, and he seemed to like Annabeth, which was just fine by her.

 

“I didn't know the check-ins would start to involve any medical examinations.”

 

Annabeth set the papers down on the counter and opened the cabinet. She could hear the half-hearted sarcasm in his voice. 

 

“Well, one of the operatives ditched training so we had to move the time-frame back. You were three days over the new deadline.”

 

“One of the operatives? It wasn't—”

 

“No.” Annabeth cut him off, pulling some of her supplies from the shelves. “Two was on assignment at the time. It wasn't her.”

 

She could see him visibly relax in the reflection of the glass on the cabinet door.

 

“So, let me get this straight. If I'd come in a week ago, I'd have been fine?”

 

Annabeth finally turned around. She snapped a pair of gloves on. “I'm sorry. I don't make the schedules. If I did, this would be a lot more efficient for you guys.”

 

He sighed, not in anger, or even frustration, just disappointment. He met her eye when he asked, “It never gets any easier, does it?”

 

Annabeth felt for him, she really did. Her interactions with the agents alone were tedious; she couldn't imagine how awful it must be for they themselves. But she wasn't good at people, and she didn't really have an answer to his question, so instead she told him, “You're going to have to take that off.” And she gestured to the locket resting lightly against his dark skin.

 

He complied without taking his eyes off her.

 

**< ~><><~>**

 

There was a perimeter around the diner. The building was empty spare the one waitress. They'd gotten there early and squared the place away. It'd seemed innocent enough, at the time.

 

By now Byer just regretted not having this conversation over email.

 

“Lieutenant,” He sighed, frustrated. “There’s something I think we need to clarify.”

 

“And what is that, Director?”

 

“You keep using the word ''unacceptable”, and I want to know what you mean by that.”

 

The greasy man scowled. “Unacceptable? I mean it in every sense of the word. I don't like what you're telling me; I don't like how you're telling it. You're asking me to wipe the most valuable intel miners we've ever put in the field. Do you have any idea how much time and effort I've put into this project? How much I've sacrificed?”

 

Kronos waved his hand in a placating manner. “Yes,  _ Prometheus _ , I'm well aware of your efforts.”

 

“(Don't call me that. You know we don't understand your mythological jokes.)”

 

“But you don't seem to understand just how quickly this whole Grace mess has metastasized.” Kronos continued as if he hadn't heard the rebuttal. “We're losing Olympus, one way or another, and unlike you, I want it to happen quietly. Which means we have to be the ones to terminate it. I know that it feels like your work is going down the drain. I know. But trust me, we're giving up nothing more than time here. Olympus, Treadstone, Jason Grace, it was all the tip of the iceberg. Do you follow?” He waited for the Lieutenant to give a begrudging affirmation. “Olympus was our best, most efficient program, but since its official launch, we've already topped it. We have the faster, stronger, more compliant agents just waiting to be used, and these beta programs have never even seen the light of day.”

 

The Lieutenant leaned forward. “I'm being reimbursed?”

 

“With five times the number of operatives.”

 

“When will they be activated?”

 

Kronos sat back and fingered his coffee mug, shrugging. “We've already selected the participants. Our medical staff gives them a week before they're mission-capable.”

 

That answer seemed to satisfy the man. “And how much longer before we find our page again?”

 

Kronos couldn't quite help the smile that ghosted his lips. “Not long.” He promised. “I'll give you the clearance once Olympus is out of the way. You get everything back and more, don't worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the sloppy writing and the late update, but I've been kinda busy these past few weeks. Also, sorry that this chapter is so short, but throwing them into this chapter just didn't seem right. If you want me to keep writing this story, let me know!


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